


Flower Garland

by HellenARTworkS



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime)
Genre: F/M, Graphic Description, Loss of Virginity, Physical Abuse, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 17:58:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14836463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HellenARTworkS/pseuds/HellenARTworkS
Summary: «Delightful,» the Joxter commented, pulling back enough to stare at her teary eyes, «You taste like the first fruits of a harvest.» [...] «Sweet and succulent,» he added. «A pity that my son is not going to taste you unspoiled.» [...] «Don't be afraid. Delicate flowers like you shan't be left in the open for too long... rather, they shall be picked when still untainted. The best ones to be added to a flower garland.»





	Flower Garland

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Doceo_Percepto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doceo_Percepto/gifts), [Sp00py](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sp00py/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Happy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14345316) by [Doceo_Percepto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doceo_Percepto/pseuds/Doceo_Percepto). 



> This quite twisted one-shot was inspired by @Doceo_Percepto's and @Sp00py's extremely well written and dreadfully fascinating fictions here on AO3. They hold all the merit for such tale to be told.  
> Therefore, I dedicate this to these two evil geniuses for managing to somewhat drag me into this.
> 
> Just like the themes and the contents, also the Universe this is set in has very similar features to their headcanons.  
> Enjoy.

A freezing, terribly painful shiver ran down her spine as soon as his paw was slammed on the wall.  
It took only an instant, and he had inched terribly close, so close she could not see anything else than his hungry expression, staring at her with the most perverted, greedy pair of deep blue, feline eyes.  
His rough, black glove pressed harshly on the rim of her jaw, pushing her chin upwards so that the poor Toffle had no means of looking away.

                «Joxter… _I– I beg of you_ …»

Her words came out as the faintest sound, shaky, feeble with distress.  
Mere seconds earlier, he was the calmest, most laidback Joxter in the Valley.

Ever since he popped around, all she ever saw him do was sleep, nap, or simply relax on tree branches, usually munching on fruit. Moominpappa said he was one of his best childhood friends, and none other than Snufkin's father. And she had to admit that yes, she could definitely see the resemblance: they were similar in height, attitude and even habits.

Alas, she should have expected that something was off when, in all the times he hung about Snufkin's campsite, he acted like a complete stranger towards his own son. They did not talk to each other, not even _look_ at each other. Perhaps a “howdy” here and there, but that was it.

She never really worried about him before.  
Just like Moomin and the others, anytime she could spend time with Snufkin she was curious to learn more from him, may it be a new song from his mouth organ, a new adventure, or a new story inspired by the shapes in the cottony clouds, or by groups of blinking stars in the night sky.

That is why, when she trotted back to the Moominhouse from the Mymble's Daughter's house, she found it quite odd to be followed, and finally approached by him.

                «Say,» He mouthed, front teeth firmly clamped around the mouthpiece of his pipe, «Aren't you my son's lovely little girlfriend, mmh…?»

It was the first time she ever heard his voice, and she silently gulped down a slight feeling of unease slowly creeping up her spine as he stepped closer, eyes fixed on her, paws lodged in his pockets.  
Maybe it had been a mistake to turn around and return his look.  
And maybe it was an even worse mistake to move backwards instead of walking forward, ending up against that wall that trapped her and prevented her from escaping.

His paw hurt around her delicate jaw, and she could feel her legs slowly growing weaker and weaker as the light was shielded by his figure inching even closer.  
The smell of the stale tobacco in his pipe was sharp, and she instinctively turned her eyes to one side, as if it could help her turn away from its stench.

But even so, his mere presence smelled strong, reeking of perspiration mixed with dirt, tree trunk's resin, and pipe smoke. His glove felt chalky, a clear sign that quite some time might have passed since it last had seen a wash.

                «…such a little, delicate flower you look like,» He murmured, the paw once planted on the wall now falling to her shoulder and slithering down her arm, «There's no question to it: he undoubtedly seems to have some good tastes.»

The Toffle's eyes turned back to him, and he snickered. Musty, nicotine-saturated breath hit her face, making her grimace.

                «J-Joxter… please…»

 _"Please, let me go. I want to go home,"_ she thought, but the feeling that that wouldn't have happened any sooner slowly nestled at the top of her stomach.  
Her naïve, young mind did not know what to think, but her instincts very well thought only one thing: **run**.

_If only she could._

Fright clutched her limbs, and she was completely still, unable to move any more than quivering like a leaf in the wind.  
Why? Why would Snufkin's own father tackle her like that?

She keened thinly.

                «Tut-tut, little one, » He continued, gloved paw going back up her arm only to detach from her and take his pipe out of his mouth, «Don't be afraid.»

One swift moment, and chapped lips unceremoniously met rosy ones, nonchalantly breaching them with a burning, slick tongue. A tangy, bitter taste invaded her mouth, mixed with warm and slimy, musty spit.  
The Toffle yelped, paws curled up in little fists as she helplessly slipped to the floor and attempted to push the heavy, unyielding Joxter away from her.

                «Quit thrashing, love, I'm not hurting you,» he mumbled, tongue once more slipping so far inside she could feel it burning against her gums.

She had never been kissed like that before. His breath was heavy with nicotine and old smoke, and the scent of his dry saliva was so sour and ripe she couldn't help but feel queasiness rise up her stomach.

She whined again.

                «Delightful,» the Joxter commented, pulling back enough to stare at her teary eyes, «You taste like the first fruits of a harvest.»  
His paw reached out to her unripe breasts, palming through the thin fabric of her dress, underneath her ruffled shrug cardigan.

                «Sweet and succulent,» He added, «A pity that my son is not going to taste you unspoiled.»

The Toffle's breath knotted up in her throat, body and tense as a bowstring as the Joxter's palms slithered down to her back.

                «No…» She breathed out, «No!!»

The Joxter's paws stilled against her rear, middle and ring finger slowly dipping in-between her buttocks, through the fabric.

                «…no?» He hummed, face dipping in the crane of her neck, lapping beneath the ruffled fabric of her collar, «Why, little flower. Are you afraid of me?»

A nod followed his words, pale little paws covering her little face, and for a moment silence fell between them. His other gloved paw ran up to her forehead, brushing away a few strands of hair that stuck to her sweat-beaded forehead.

                «Don't be. Delicate ones like you shan't be left in the open for too long,» He murmured, nudging a knee between her legs as he resumed his groping, «Rather, they shall be picked when still untainted. The best ones to be added to a flower garland.»

The Toffle's eyes were screwed shut by then, her whole body shaking in horror as he dove for another, filthy kiss, sprawling on top of her as he calmly positioned himself between her legs.  
His tongue went back to work, filling the inside of her mouth with another bout of hot, sour spit and stale tobacco taste, as nicotine-coated teeth ground against pearly white ones.

This one kiss lasted much longer than the first.  
His breathing slowly sped up, paws roaming over her unripe figure, pinching small, perky nipples through her front's fabric, palming all the way down to her waist, and finally under her skirt and between her legs, which she instinctively attempted to close, although ending up merely tensing her thighs around him.

Her bloomers prevented him from going any further, but she could feel his fingers aggressively prodding her. She shrieked through her nose, little paws moving downwards in an attempt to push him away. A tear fell down from her eye, sliding down her cheekbone down into her hair.

 _Please, stop… please, stop._  
_Please, stop!!_

It was then that the kiss ended, and he pulled back sucking in a deep, needy breath.

                «Snufkin… **SNUFKIN** –!! Snufkin, **HELP**!!»

Her voice hitched, but no echo followed, nor anybody hurried over to take her away from his paws.  
The Joxter's paw relentlessly brushed against her groin, his other paw pinning her to the ground. No matter how hard she hit or pushed him, he stood in place and seemed to be completely unfazed by that.

                «He is not here, little one… hush now, you will only make it worse.»

His paw cupped her mound, and he licked his lips, ravenous.

                «What a precious little treasure,» He commented, «Fits perfectly in my palm.»

A tug, and the laces tying her bloomers instantly went loose, allowing him to reach inside and easily yank them down her knees.  
A breathless hum escaped his lips at the sight that followed, a hum that sent terror-filled adrenaline down her spine, instantly turning her into a weak mess of slurred begging and calling for help.

 _Please, no…_  
_Joxter, let me go…_  
_Let me go… please…_

His right paw reached up to his mouth, and he bit down on the tip of his glove's middle finger, freeing himself from its hold in a swift move.  
Rubbing a thumb over the thin, pink slit now in front of him, he hummed again, taking his sweet time in enjoying the gorgeous display of that untouched, pure little Toffle right in front of his voracious, feline eyes.

_Please…_

                «An unfortunate fate, is it not…? Easily marred by the climate…» He mumbled, eyes fixed on her rosy labia as he toyed with them, spreading them apart, pinching them, and flicking his fingers over her bared and most sensitive spot.

The Toffle keened, squirmed, and cried.

 _Stop… stop!_  
_Please, stop!!_

                «Dried up by the sun…»

The Joxter's fingers dipped downwards, now holding her bud between index and middle finger, grinning at the feeling of it slowly growing plumper and rounder.

                «…or punctured by the rain.»

His two fingers dipped inside, violently, suddenly, all the way to the middle phalanx.  
A loud, pained scream followed.

                «No!! NO!! Please, stop!! **Stop**!!!»

She cried, tossing and thrashing, little fists now beating the ground.  
It **_hurt_**.

                «Hush, little one… I'm only helping you out.» He said, pulling red stained fingers out of her.  
Wiping them on the front of his coat, he then reached down to his own pants and pulled himself free of the restraints.  
                «One day, my son will decide to do the same to you,» he asserted, guiding himself to her freshly torn entrance, «He will want to take your innocence…» he slid inside, inching all the way in, «And… _hnn_ … savour your sweet taste of springtime.»

He paused, taking in the delightful sight of her crumpled expression, stricken with despair, pain, and utter helplessness.

A grunt, and his eyes rolled back into his skull behind closed lids. The scorching tightness enveloping him sent blood boiling in his veins. It was deliciously intense, after so much time since he last lay with a virgin.

His other paw grasped her jaw once more, head dipping down dangerously close to her as he breathed on her flushed skin:

                « _Too bad there will be none._ »

With that one last cue, he began pumping his hips.  
The Toffle shrieked and shook in agony, writhing under her assaulter. Burning pain shot through her like searing iron at every thrust, fiercely stretching her apart.

Screams and stammered gibberish followed, pouring out of the Toffle's mouth as she endured the ordeal, shaken and tossed to and fro with every push and shove of his still unsated heat.  
Only when she felt something drip on her face she cracked her eyes open, catching a glimpse of his expression.

He seemed stuck in a daze.  
Half-lidded, pleasure darkened blue eyes stared into space, a string of spit connecting his lightly parted lips as he panted and breathed. Charcoal brown, gray-laced hair stuck to his sweat-beaded, flushed face, perspiration slowly dripping down from the tip of his dark nose.

The thrusts intensified.

By then, the little Toffle was a mess of incoherent begging, exhausted by the extreme rush of adrenaline and activity she had been subject to. Her little paws lay limp at her sides, silently begging for mercy from the Protector-of-all-Small-Beasts.

It felt endless. But finally the Joxter stilled.  
His hips twitched, and he gasped, sighed, and groaned.

Hot slickness filled her insides, and she gritted her teeth, fingers digging in the earth below as she trembled, hoping for him to pull away. _Praying_ for him to pull away.

                «Such a precious little beast…» He breathed, pulling out of her as he dappled her face and neck with laps and kisses, tickling her. His ungloved paw reached between her legs and dipped inside once more, earning a pained jolt as he curved them.

                «…absolutely delicious.» He hummed, rubbing his fingers inside her tender, newly stretched passage, taking his time in appreciating his achievement.  
With one last, chaste kiss to her cheek, he finally unpinned her, and tucked himself back in his slacks.  
He lazily wiped his paw on the side of his coat and got up, making sure to also pick up his glove and his pipe from the ground as he did so.

                «Pull your knickers back up, little one. You're free.» He announced, producing a match from his pocket and lighting it on the rough side of the wall, then nonchalantly lit up his pipe.

Finally on cue, the little Toffle scurried away from the Joxter, gasping and heaving so hard she barely could stand up as she did as instructed, lacing her ties back up with trembling, stiff fingers.  
And then, she fled. Renewed strength arose in her limbs as she ran for shelter towards her original destination, crying, stumbling, rolling, crawling.

The Joxter observed her as she slowly vanished from his sight, a paw in his pocket, puffing clouds of gray from his pipe. Lowering his head to the ground, he lay his eyes on their red-streaked mess on the ground, using his shoe to smear his own seed together with her blood.

He bit down on the mouthpiece of his pipe, and grinned in satisfaction.

Another exquisite flower was added to his garland.


End file.
